


The Sparrow

by Sian265



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 18:32:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14959889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sian265/pseuds/Sian265
Summary: The SparrowWritten for the 2006 Mistletoe in May SwapAuthor: Sian (Denise)Beta:    FimbrethielEmail:   Sian265@aol.comRating:  NC-17Pairing: Erestor/GlorfindelWarnings: NoneRequest: Erestor/Glorfindel, memory loss, sparrow, NC-17Summary: An accident leaves Glorfindel alone and without his lover, will Erestor remember, before Glorfindel’s patience wears out?





	The Sparrow

Who will love a little Sparrow  
Who's traveled far and cries for rest?  
"Not I", said the oak tree,  
"I won't share my branches with  
no sparrow's nest,  
And my blanket of leaves won't  
warm her cold breast."  
Who will love a little Sparrow  
And who will speak a kindly word?  
"Not I", said the swan,  
"The entire idea is utterly absurd,  
I'd be laughed at and scorned if the  
other swans heard."  
Who will take pity in his heart,  
And who will feed a starving sparrow?  
"Not I", said the golden wheat,  
"I would if I could but I cannot I know,  
I need all my grain to prosper and grow."  
Who will love a little Sparrow?  
Will no one write her eulogy?  
"I will", said the earth,  
"For all I've created returns unto me,  
From dust were ye made and  
dust we shall be."  
SPARROW (Simon & Garfunkel)

His hands were beautiful, the fingers long and elegant. The pale skin unblemished, giving no testament to their owner’s occupation. They were the hands of gentle, caring soul; this was obvious by the tender way they held the small, speckled sparrow.

The tiny bird appeared to be listening attentively to the Elf’s words. The blond warrior leaned in close, whispering low words intended only for the bird. There was heartache and a sense of finality in the blond’s voice. 

“It is no use, my little friend. He has still no memory of me.” Glorfindel gently stroked the bird's feathers, his features twisted in sadness. 

The sparrow seemed to disagree vehemently with the Elf’s words. It chirped loudly, its wings fluttering madly as it seemed almost to berate the blond Elf.

Glorfindel drew back from the bird’s agitation and watched, mouth agape, as his little friend flew off, landing on the balcony adjacent to Glorfindel’s room.

He watched hopefully, his heart in his eyes, as the room's occupant came out and greeted the sparrow. Sick, Glorfindel turned away a moment later; he could not watch and be crushed again by disappointment as the sight of the bird failed to spark any recognition in his lover’s eyes. He could not look into those blank ebony eyes and see no sign of *his* Erestor.

The Erestor he had loved was gone, and the person staring back at Glorfindel from those eyes knew nothing of the pain his gaze caused.

Stepping into his chambers did nothing to ease the pain, for the rooms that had housed and nurtured their love for centuries were now empty, had been that way going on a fortnight. Ever since Erestor lost his memory.

What brought Glorfindel to his knees was that he might have been able to prevent this from happening if he had been with Erestor like he promised. But no, Glorfindel just had to stay a little longer on the training field, missing the ride he and Erestor had planned. They had argued and parted irritated with one another. 

Who knows what had spooked Erestor’s horse or why the mare’s rearing had surprised the usually attentive advisor? Erestor had been thrown, hitting his head and not regaining consciousness until much later. He had been found by a returning patrol and rushed to the healing halls. Erestor was thought to be fine, just a mild headache – that was, until he looked at his family and friends with no recognition in his eyes.

Elrond could not say when or even *if* Erestor would regain his memory. It had been his suggestion that Erestor be given his own quarters and not return to the shared rooms with Glorfindel. Elrond has warned against telling Erestor of his past; he urged Glorfindel strongly to let the advisor remember on his own. 

But every day that went by, Glorfindel’s hope that Erestor would remember him and what they were to each other became dimmer. 

Glorfindel had sent his feathered friend each morning to greet his mate. However, the little sparrow, a bird Erestor had always favored, sparked no memory in Erestor. Then Glorfindel had to ask himself, what hope was there?

// It had been their first morning together, the first time they awoke together after a night spent in passion, but when Glorfindel reached out a hand and opened his eyes, all he encountered were cold sheets and an empty bed. Glorfindel had found his new lover on the balcony, eyes closed as Erestor listened to the sparrows greet the new day. //

 

He stared hard at the walls separating him from Erestor. Glorfindel could almost imagine that he could still see his mate as he had been when he stepped onto the balcony to greet the little bird: Erestor’s hair unbound and falling like a night-cloaked waterfall straight down his back, his pale smooth skin uncovered and kissed by the morning sun. Erestor had been attired only in a pair of thin black sleep pants, and the sight was enough to test fully all of Glorfindel’s self control. He had been spoiled, all these years with Erestor freely at hand; now he had to restrain himself like during their courting days of old. Glorfindel could not fathom now how he had done without Erestor’s touch during those frustrating days.

Now each day he was forced to watch as *his* Erestor danced and laughed with Elves he would not have given the time of day to before. *His* Erestor had been reserved, not shy, just selective in his acquaintances as only an honorable and noble Elf who had been alive longer than most in Middle-earth had the right to be. Glorfindel could not claim his lover as he had done before, take him and bear him back onto their bed and spend the whole night making love. The people of Imladris had all been warned by Elrond, “Let Erestor come to you with remembrance; tell him nothing freely, but if asked, do not lie.” But Glorfindel could not order his eyes to remain indifferent, they devoured, beseeched, and hungered for *his* Erestor.

Glorfindel knew he made this familiar, yet unknown Erestor uncomfortable, but the days of waiting for his mate to remember were telling on Glorfindel and he was not so sure that he would not snap, soon…

*~*

Erestor grinned at the scolding he was receiving from the little brown bird. He was almost certain it was the same sparrow that had taken to visiting him each morning for the last fortnight. Erestor did not know if his company had been this frequent before the accident, but then there was a lot that Erestor did not know or remember. He turned and stepped back into his room, the little bird still chirping. An excellent example, Erestor thought; he did not remember this room. They all told him that it was his, but it did not feel like his home. Something significant seemed to be missing. 

He had been told very little about himself. His name and that he was the chief advisor to Lord Elrond and ruled this valley home, Imladris, as Elrond’s second in command. He had no family left in these lands, and he was very old. Not much, Erestor thought – two or three sentences to describe a person’s life. Any further inquires were met with a sad look from Lord Elrond and a warning to remember his life on his own, words Erestor had grown sick of hearing. 

Most of the residents he had met were friendly and welcoming, despite Erestor’s blank stares and cautious greetings. He must have been a well-liked Elf, or so Erestor told himself himself, by the way he was treated. 

There was one question that he had asked more than once, and it seemed to cause the most shifting in Elrond eyes. The question was whether Erestor had a mate.. Again, however, he was told to let the memories come to him.

Of all the Elves he had encountered, there was one that sent a tingle up Erestor’s spine. One whose eyes regarded him a little too closely. Erestor often thought he saw impatience and hunger in those eyes…Glorfindel, the elf that slept next to him, separated by only one lone wall. 

Erestor shook off the chill that gripped him, casting aside for now thoughts of Imladris’ captain. He bade goodbye to his little irritated guest and dressed for his day. At least the duties he was assigned seemed to agree with him - the pen fit his hand and his mind appeared to remember what to do. Then that evening he must once more smile and make merry with the other Elves he lived among, but he was sure that the *old* Erestor had not enjoyed these gatherings. Privately, he believed them a great waste of time!

*~*

Glorfindel knew his eyes were glaring and his look uninviting. He glowered and cursed under his breath at each laugh from Erestor and each touch the Elves around Erestor bestowed on *his* mate. His hand clenched around the goblet and he took another deep drink of the potent wine. Glorfindel slumped lower in his chair; he had no wish to join the singing, dancing, or storytelling. He just wanted to be left alone to his gloom. If he could not have Erestor’s company, then he wanted no company at all!

Many cast uneasy glances at the scowling Imladris captain, whose darkened blue gaze had not left Erestor since the dark-haired Elf had entered the Great Hall. Even Elrond dared not approach the blond; he too avoided Glorfindel and the unhappiness and anger that he projected. 

Glorfindel could not take his eyes off his lover. The councilor wore a deep crimson robe with a collar trimmed in fur. The robe draped Erestor’s figure, curving just right along the advisor’s heart-shaped ass and falling perfectly down the length of his long legs. Erestor had braided his hair back from his face, and Glorfindel could see his mate lean his face against the fur collar, brushing a cheek along it; Erestor had no idea how that action drew attention to the pearly skin of his face and throat.

Cúluim, Glorfindel’s second in command, reached out a finger and teased the fur surrounding Erestor’s face, his finger brushing against the smooth cheek. Glorfindel growled, the sound rising low and rough from his chest, and several looked to the captain with fear in their eyes. That was, except for Cúluim; he grinned over at his commander, perhaps made a little to bold by the drink he had consumed. Glorfindel started to rise from his chair, his eyes deadly and trained on his second, but he settled back down as he saw Erestor move away from the foolish Elf. His eyes shifted again and he looked right into the confused black gaze of Erestor. He had been so focused on his warrior’s actions that he had missed the fact that Erestor was watching him just as closely. Glorfindel could read the unease and deep confusion in Erestor’s eyes, but he could not reassure Erestor, his desire for his mate was too close to the surface and his hunger for Erestor was fierce.

At a sharp, warning cough from Elrond, Glorfindel’s gaze was jerked from Erestor’s. He looked over at his Lord and caught Elrond’s heavy frown. He read the message loud and clear and Glorfindel almost growled again. In disgust he threw back the last of his drink and slamming the goblet down, rose, and quit the Hall. 

The privacy of his rooms offered no comfort. Glorfindel paced his quarters as if they were a cage and he was locked in. He continued to drink, and with each cup, his thoughts grew more desperate and his need greater. Why could he not reclaim his mate? Did it not make sense that his touch alone might bring back his Erestor? Glorfindel trembled as he recalled kisses and touches that left each of them breathless, penetration that went deeper than the body alone, it seeped into their souls. The need to possess and reestablish their intimacy surely would rekindle his lover’s memory. He could no longer stand the waiting. Erestor was his!

The halls drew silent as Elves sought their beds, but Glorfindel continued to drink and pace, only growing still as he heard the door to the room next to his open and then close. In his mind’s eye, he could see Erestor move about the room, shedding his clothing and performing the nightly rituals that Glorfindel had always found so arousing. Erestor would stand nude before his dressing table and brush out his hair, the black so deep and dark that the candles would pick up sapphire highlights so that it almost appeared blue. Only when the fall of hair was smooth and untangled like fine silk would Erestor turn and move to the bed. His eyes, so dark and full of wicked delights, would pin Glorfindel in place and Erestor would crawl toward his lover, sensuous and graceful, like a large cat. Then under the cover of night their dance would begin, until they both gave in to exhaustion, sated, their bodies close even in rest.

Glorfindel was at Erestor’s door before he even realized he had left his rooms. His hand trembled upon the door, but he did not stop until he could slip inside the dark, silent room. His eyes quickly adjusted to the gloom and they sought and found the still form on the bed. 

*~*

Deeply asleep, Erestor dreamed of intimate touches, kissing under the covers, and lovemaking, all with a certain blond. His eyelids twitched at a particularly vivid mental image, and he moaned out a name, freezing the intruder that stood over him in the dark.

‘Glorfindel.’

*~*

Glorfindel bit his lip to hold in the groan that Erestor’s moan and calling of his name elicited. His blood turned hotter as he caught the scent of arousal coming from Erestor. A shaft of moonlight cut across a high cheekbone and highlighted full red lips. He could not take his eyes from Erestor’s lips; when they formed his name once more, Glorfindel began to strip, silently letting his clothes fall to the floor. 

With barely a ripple, he entered the bed, carefully easing back the sheet and crawling inside. Glorfindel eased himself closer and closer to Erestor’s back and gently, as not to awake him, wrapped his arm around Erestor’s waist, pressing himself firmly against the back of the sleeping Elf.

Glorfindel told himself as he lay there, warm nude skin against warm nude skin, that he would be content just to hold his mate, but as his shaft pressed against the curve of Erestor’s ass, desire stirred and would not be stilled. His hand had a mind of its own and began to softly stroke Erestor’s stomach, moving higher to brush across a nipple, and he had to bury his face in Erestor’s hair to quiet his own moan. 

The scent and feel of Erestor crippled Glorfindel. There was no way he could have torn himself away now, not after the long weeks of torment and waiting; having to watch and want from the sidelines, with no touching or mornings spent abed together. Glorfindel could not even count on his tremendous force of will to save him now. There was no stopping himHe had to have Erestor. 

*~*

Erestor was not sure when his dream turned real, only that he awoke to hot hands touching him with a familiarity that could not be faked. His senses, already inflamed from his dreams, made him push back eagerly against the heavy length that rested in the crease of his backside. Erestor realized that his dreams were not mere fantasies; his body reacted too knowingly, too wantingly to Glorfindel’s touch. They had done this before. He arched his neck into the scalding tongue that licked along his throat and whimpered when sharp teeth bit down where neck met shoulder, marking him for Erestor to see and remember in the morning. There would be no forgetting this night.

Glorfindel ground himself against Erestor’s back, rotating his hips; they both let out moans of want. Abandoning the small nipples he had been rolling and pulling between his fingers, Glorfindel’s hand drifted down to Erestor’s hard length, the tip already moist and leaking. Taking a chance, not wanting to ruin the moment or let Erestor have time to think, Glorfindel cleared his hoarse throat. “The oil, Erestor,” he choked out. He almost wept in relief when one of Erestor’s hands fumbled blindly along the night table, grabbing the bottle there and thrusting it back to Glorfindel.

Wasting the barest amount of time on preparation, Glorfindel hastily coated his length and hand with the oil. Dropping the bottle behind him, his fingers immediately set about opening Erestor up. First he circled the small hole, then let one lone finger slide inside. Thrusting it a couple of times, he quickly added another and began scissoring them to stretch the opening. Glorfindel removed his fingers and wrapped both arms tightly around Erestor. Nudging his hips forward, he whispered, “Sorry, I cannot wait,” and with one thrust forward he pierced Erestor, burying himself fully inside.

They both were still, shudders shaking their forms, Glorfindel fighting for control and Erestor adjusting to the sudden penetration. 

Erestor fought to loosen his body, to relax into the hard length spearing him. Experimentally he moved his hips and cried aloud at the pleasure that move brought. “Glorfindel!” he moaned.

Glorfindel gritted his teeth. Slowly, inch by inch, he pulled out until only the head of his arousal remained inside. Taking as much care, he thrust back home. Many times, but never enough, he repeated his withdraw and then thrust forward, the pace only picking up when Erestor began moving back more urgently to meet each thrust. It had been much too long, for both of them.

Glorfindel’s fist glided up and down Erestor’s shaft, each stroke quicker than the last, and on each trip up the length, his thumb would rub the sensitive head, gathering the fluid there to make his slide down that much smoother. Hips matched to this furious pace; there was no possible way for either to last. 

Erestor cried out and clenched tightly around Glorfindel’s length, his seed erupting and coating the blond’s hand. All it took was for those contractions to travel to Glorfindel’s shaft for him to find release also. His cry was muffled by Erestor’s hair and his arms tightened even more around the advisor. Glorfindel did not loosen his hold or pull out of Erestor’s body. He did not want to lose this feeling or his mate so soon after reclaiming Erestor. He could not let go.

It was the soothing and loving stroking of Erestor’s hand upon his arm that finally allowed Glorfindel to slowly withdraw and allow the councilor to turn to face him. The first touch of Erestor’s lips in weeks almost brought Glorfindel to tears and he hungrily deepened their kiss, only pulling away when the need for air could be ignored no longer. He let Erestor’s fingers rediscover his face, and kissed each fingertip as it glided across his lips. Erestor’s dark eyes, gleaming in the blackness of the room, studied Glorfindel as if he were seeing him for the first time.

Erestor shook his head at himself and voiced his thoughts aloud. “How could I have ever forgotten you?”

Glorfindel’s whole body shook with laughter and this time he did let the tears fall, tears of relief and gladness. “I do not know, but no more riding alone for you!”


End file.
